


We Are Here

by emotionalcataclysm



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU with a bit of canonverse?, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, and a fixed storyline i guess, but i wanted him to be a girl for my story, contemporary YA, i didn't tag him anyway so it's cool?, i made bellamy a girl, not to offend anyone, with some teenage drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-28 18:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6341059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalcataclysm/pseuds/emotionalcataclysm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Highschool AU. </p><p>Four months ago Clarke's best friend, Bella, died from what people believed was a random shooting.<br/>Reeling from the pain and loss, Clarke starts piecing together the clues to make sense of what happened.</p><p>Lexa's girlfriend Costia skipped town to escape her abusive father.<br/>Lexa isn't ready to say goodbye. </p><p>Told in alternating chapters, <b>We Are Here</b> takes a look at the past and the present, how their shared grief brought them together; a circumstantial connection, or perhaps it's written in the stars. But in each other's company they find solace, and maybe, a chance to finally heal and love again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clarke

**In the beginning** they gave me a clean sheet of paper, a retractable ball point pen that had about a quarter of ink left, and a cup of bland, almost lukewarm coffee. _Start writing_ , they said, and my fingers fumbled because I hadn’t written anything by hand in ages. Nobody seemed to be writing down things anymore. Even my mother who does the grocery shopping had her list tapped down on her IPhone. For a while I simply stared at the blank page, uncomprehending. What did they want me to write about? I could not recall if they actually gave me specific instructions but before I could ask them the door was closing behind me. I heard the latch catching. There was no escaping.

The _interrogation room_ , I had to start calling it that, was a little cramped and had that distinct smell of bleach. I wondered if the person before me had slit his throat and bled all over the floor. Or maybe he hurt someone else and they had to shoot him. To my left was a wide glass panel that ran the entire length of the wall. I almost jumped back at my reflection – I was ghastly pale and my lips were chapped from excessive biting. My eyes were red and swollen, as though a bee had stung them. I knew I had been crying but I thought I had stopped. I hadn’t. That’s what they probably mean when they say you’re in shock. Your senses dull. I could hardly feel the wetness of my cheeks, I could hardly register what is, in fact, the only truth that mattered now, rendering everything else meaningless.  

 _Your death_. 

I lifted the pen and let it roll between my fingers. _They wanted to know what happened, Bella_. And what could I ever possibly tell them that would make sense? Why were we there in the first place? Why did we have dirt on our fingers? Why did we have that gun?

 _None of it mattered_ , I started to write. Because that is the truth. It did not matter whether they found the guy. You are never, _ever_ , coming back, so there was little point in doing anything else.

 

 **Do you remember the first night we got really, really, drunk?** It was freshman year. You thought that sorority party Ashley threw every year was perfect, and I thought we could handle it, just a few cups to make us a little tipsy, and brave, so we could finally get some guys to grope us in the dark. But we got too excited. We started to practice drinking in your room and passed out just after a few gulps. Too embarrassed the next morning to talk about it. How inexperienced and ignorant we were. _Where is the bottle now, Bella? Is it still half-full? Did you keep it in your room to remind yourself of our innocence? Of how simple things were back then?_

 _We were innocent_ , I wrote again. The moment the gun slammed to your side of the window and exploded, the moment they took you away on a body bag, I knew I would be living on borrowed time. There was so much of you in me, Bella, that I had forgotten where I left off and you began, that when you died _I_ died as well, and the rest of me that is still here is still dying. Still trying to catch up. My hands will never be warm again. The air will never taste sweet again.

I realized I was choking. Somebody stepped into the room and replaced my coffee with water. They patted my shoulder, whispering _there, there_ as though I was an eight year old kid. It made me cry more. At one point I asked for my mother, and the person looked confused. _You didn’t want to see her. You threw a fit when she approached you_. I had no recollection of doing that, so I shook my head. _Mom. Mom. I want my mom_. The person disappeared and I heard a buzz somewhere, followed by the rattling of bars.

The door flew open and there was my mother, her eyes as puffy as mine. She was wearing a cotton nightdress underneath an oversized army coat which must belong to my father, probably the only coat on the rack when the police called. My mother would never wear anything that belonged to my father, she hated him too much. But I knew once upon a time she loved that coat, as much as she loved my father. It was the only thing she kept and I wondered if it was giving her the warmth and strength she needed.

She threw her arms around me, enveloping me in a hug that felt like she was clinging to me more than I was clinging to her. She was crying to my hair, whispering something that sounded like _sorry_ , but I couldn’t know for sure because at that point, as I smelled my Dad’s aftershave and her shampoo, my legs gave out and everything went black.

 

 **We were under the bleachers sharing a piece of stale cigarette** you managed to sneak out of your Dad’s jacket pocket. You were teaching me how to smoke it properly, but I couldn’t get the smoke past my throat without coughing it all back up. _Slowly_ , you said, a little sternly. _You’re wasting it_.

 _Inhale, exhale. Easy_.

You laughed at my third failed attempt. I spat, hating the taste of it inside my mouth.

 _We should head back to class_ , I said.

A swirl of smoke enveloped you in a kind of haze that made your eyes looked brighter. You took your time, shoulders arched back as you inhaled deep, the burnt side of the cigarette lighting up half your face in an orange glow. I stood there mesmerized by the way your lips formed a little “o” as you pushed the smoke out, slowly and deliberately. I always hated it when you smoked, the way the smell clung to my clothes, and then one day I didn’t mind anymore, when everything became a blur between us, when your scent was my scent, and your skin was my skin.

Later, after you stomped the stub with your shoes, you grabbed me and pushed me against the wall, your mouth finding mine. I rubbed your back as we kissed, cherry and tobacco mingling as our tongues explored. We stopped when we heard voices. _Our little secret_ , you said with a mischievous smile. I couldn’t match it. Mine was much more sincere, if only you stopped and really looked.

 


	2. Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Abigail Griffin and Jasper are introduced, while Thelonious Jaha is mentioned.  
> \- Jasper is Clarke's younger brother. He's a little shit.

" **You've got chocolate on your cheek, dumbass** , " I heard my brother Jasper shouting from the other end of the table. I hated most kids his age - twelve years old, these pricks who thought it was okay to openly stare at boobs and call their older sisters _dumbass_. I tried to kill him with my stare, but he simply opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, bits of chewed pancakes falling off to his chin and staying there.

"Close your mouth you disgusting freak," I replied and angrily rubbed a thumb against my cheek.

"Your _other_ cheek," He was laughing now, literally shaking on his chair.

I started to leave my chair to grab his skinny shoulders and throw him on the floor, but out on the corner of my eye I saw Mom coming in from the living room where she just finished her telephone call with Dr. Jaha - _Dr. Blahblah_ \- my psychiatrist. I sat back down. She looked pissed.

"Clarke, we need to talk," As she was saying this she was checking her wristwatch, and my eyes automatically looked up to the clock on the wall. It was early, thirty minutes after six AM, yet my mother looked like she already lost a day. She was already in her scrubs, give her a pair of white gloves and she can start a surgery right there on our kitchen table. I am always proud of my mother, Dr. Abigail Griffin, Head of General Surgery, but sometimes I wished she could pretend for one moment that she was not a doctor, that I did not have to share my time with other people, that she could hug me for as long as I needed, and I didn't have to worry that somewhere an alarm would go off and she'd be gone.

"Looks like you're late for something," I said, my voice dripping with more sarcasm than I had intended.

Mom sighed. "Look, I have a surgery in twenty minutes and if we want to beat traffic we should be leaving now. So grab your bags and let's go. But Clarke, we _do_ need to talk. How about after dinner, eight-ish?"

I did not like the way she said it as though I was some patient she had to schedule an appointment for, so I shrugged, pretending to be indifferent. Jasper left his plate on the table and headed back to his room, rubber shoes pounding the stairs. Mom shook her head and went about clearing the table while I stood there, watching her glumly.

"Get your things," she said. Reluctantly, I followed my brother upstairs. I could hear him grunting, probably reaching for his favourite and most likely unwashed pair of socks from underneath his bed. My room was at the end of the hall, and as I walked past Jasper's something hit the wall on my right, narrowly missing my head. It was a stuffed teddy bear, one bead eye missing and skin fraying and discolored from years of washing.

"That's yours," Jasper called from his room. "I don't know how it got under my bed."

Immediately my eyes watered and I almost ran to my room, clutching the toy to my chest. My brother's wrong. It was Bella's of course, bits of her everywhere in this house. I thought I had boxed and chucked everything - everything that was _tangible_ at least, but every now and then, something like this would suddenly turn up, and my body, despite how much control I thought I had, would betray me. My hands will shake. My lips will quiver. My heart would constrict.

_You've got to stop mourning for me, Princess._

_Well, you've got to stop turning up in the form of forgotten toys, Blake_.

I squeezed my eyes shut. One minute. Today I would allow myself a minute to cry. Tomorrow, it would be ten seconds less. Then maybe someday, my eyes will be dry enough and I could afford a smile or two.

_That sounds great, Princess._

_Stop calling me that._

Somewhere, somebody was impatiently pressing down the car horn.


	3. Lexa

_Where does our story start? Shall I tell you about how I first came to know you, or how you thought I first came to know you? Honestly, I would not be able to say, at least with any kind of certainty, where our lives started to converge, as it seems life does not work like that, like a linear happenstance - a beginning, a middle, an end, like pieces falling into place, so randomly yet so deliberately, like a pattern in the sky, an invisible path that pulls cosmic bodies into orbit, beautiful from a distance, but when you look closely, a chaos within itself._

_So I cannot pinpoint the exact moment of our beginning, our middle, or our end, it is simply that, a moment, a blip in the never-ending stream of lines and sounds. I have probably already seen you before, a glimpse of your hair tucked behind your ear, a peek of your flesh behind a half-closed door. We must have used the same set of chopsticks at one point, sat on the same table, wrinkled our noses at the same time. I could have worn the same pair of socks that you wore when you were a child, we must have watched the same movie in the same theatre, you sitting farther down the aisle because you cannot see anything above row H. There are endless possibilities in our circumstantial connection that sometimes I think it was not so random after all._

_Have I ever told you I loved your smile? I must have. I am sure I had. Even though you did not like taking pictures of yourself you would always indulge me with a strained half-smile, our cheeks pressed together probably felt to you more like a chore you couldn't wait to get out of, but later, as we tuck away our cameras and brush off the sands off our legs and toes, as we lay on the beach staring at the hazy sky, clouds dipping and rising as they welcome the dark, you would spoon me from behind and whisper secrets and uncertainties, and occasionally, possibly, unless I have imagined it all, words of love._


	4. Lexa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Raven is introduced while Titus is mentioned.  
> \- Raven will be Lexa's BFF. The 100 has starved me from interactions between these two, so I'm making them best friends for life.  
> \- Titus is the Principal. Of course he should be. Principals in YA are always the villains.

**"It couldn't be her,"** I heard Raven whispering behind me. We had locked ourselves in the computer room during lunch. Nobody went there anymore, since, with the exception of the school's official site and Wikipedia, all the other websites were blocked. Fortunately, I had a hacker for a best friend, and she had that special touch - no computer in town would be able to resist her charms.

We were looking at a blurry profile picture of a girl wearing a beanie, trees in the background. She was obviously hiding her face, the beanie was covering much of her eyes and the red scarf around her neck was up to her nose. Clearly, not an ideal profile picture. But her twitter name _twelfthgrounder_ caught my attention. She recently followed two public twitter accounts - the school's and the town newspaper's, which easily meant she's either a student, a resident, or both. But she had 0 tweets, and there could not be anything remotely interesting about the two twitter accounts, except if she wanted to read news about her father's trial.

I explained all of these to Raven, but she did not look convinced. In fact, I could see pity in her eyes. I must look desperate, manic even, convinced that my girlfriend did not abandon me, that she is just hiding somewhere, bidding her time, waiting for that perfect opportunity to contact me, so I could join her wherever she was. And Raven knew I would do just that, I would follow Costia anywhere, to the moon and back. And that must make me look pathetic.

"Why don't you follow her account and _DM_ her or something?" she offered, but the way she sounded, she did not think it was a good idea. I did not, either. I could be scaring Costia away. I had to be careful, tread lightly.

"No… I'll just bookmark her page and see if she tweets anything that could be a clue," I said, already tapping on my phone and saving her page to my _favorites_ folder. My eyes burned as I did this, and I tried to look away but Raven caught me. She lifted my chin and forced me to look her in the eye.

"It's been four months… and _nothing_ ," I finally said, teeth gritting. I let the tears flow. "She couldn't have just abandoned me, could she, Rave? She couldn't have."

It was an old game between us: me with the begging, Raven with the enabling. I wanted Raven to assure me every day that Costia left because she simply had no choice, her bastard of a father was abusing her, that she did not hook up with the first guy who had a car and was willing to take her away, that she did not have the time to write me a letter, or text me, or call me, because she was afraid if she did, she will be found. That she was only waiting for the right moment to contact me, and that I was always, _always_ on her mind. As she was on mine.

"She didn't abandon you," Raven replied fiercely. "She will call when the time is right. You must be patient Lex."

I sighed, wiping away my tears. "I hate that you see me like this." I tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a choked sob. "Vulnerable. Pathetic. Weak."

" _Love is not weakness_ ," she countered, grinning. "Even the student council president is allowed to cry and be vulnerable. You don't have to hide your feelings all the time."

"As a matter of fact I do," I watched Raven started closing the web browsers and did something suspicious and complicated on the little blue screen window beside them. She hummed as she worked. After a few clicks and taps, the CPU whirred and beeped, preparing itself to shut down.

Raven gathered our things. "Well, maybe only when the bald guy is looking," she was referring to Principal Titus, who micromanaged all the school and club activities, much to the chagrin of the council as well as the volunteer members like Raven. We had an argument about a week ago regarding the school's incessant plan of putting together a club for the emotionally _disturbed teens_ \- the cutters, the grievers who lost a family or a friend, or had parents divorcing, and the gays who were being bullied - it was a nice plan, actually, an ideal one in fact, if only these teenagers and the rest of us did not think it was equivalent to making yourself a target, since being grouped _together_ meant the school would know who the losers are. Most of these kids wanted to be alone. So, a very bad idea. But Principal Titus wanted to see this through, and I was starting to think he had some other kind of agenda.

"So… about that club thing," I started as we made our way back, the bell for fifth period piercing through our ears. We caught a group of boys loitering by the gym entrance and I gave them my best death glare. They scattered immediately. One of them, Finn, saluted as he made his way past, and I saw Raven looking down, cheeks turning pink. She could not have been any more obvious, but I decided not to press her. She could get really defensive, it was a little painful to watch.

 I paused, momentarily caught off-guard by the girl at the end of the hallway, and the way she was trying to pull herself up from the floor.

"What is she doing?" Raven asked, stopping beside me. "Is she, like, drunk?"

"She's in big trouble if she is." As we stepped closer - her features and figure finally taking shape - I noticed immediately how blue her eyes were, like the deepest end of the ocean, but they were pained, hurt eyes, and the moment they locked on mine I felt I had to look away, guilty and terrified, as though she caught me seeing something I was not supposed to see. My heart hammered, threatening to rip through my chest.

_Do I know this girl? Have I met her before?_

"Are you alright?" I heard Raven asking, offering her arm for the girl to hold on to. I kept my eyes glued to the floor, mildly aware that the floor was actually clean and she could not have been throwing up. She must have tripped and fallen. That pain in her eyes must have come from a sprained ankle or a scratched knee.

"S-sorry," the girl stuttered. Her voice was so, so, _undeniably_ familiar that I dared another peek at her. She was tucking her blond hair away from her eyes, and I noticed that she was still looking at me. "I just… I fell down, I was on my way to the nurse."

"Would you like us to come with you?" Raven, ever the girl scout.

"No, it's fine," She waved her hand dismissively. "It's just around the corner. Don't worry… and you'll be late for class."

Raven laughed. "Naw… this, my friend here," Raven grabbed my arm. "is the student council president. She is _above_ the law."

The girl's face turned bright pink. She did not know who I was, which, in this school with a population of about 600, is kind of a big deal. But I did not know her either, and with eyes like that, I would immediately spot her from a sea of faces. Unless…

"You're a transferee, right?" I managed to say at last, internally congratulating myself for the way my voice did not shake.

"Yes, today is my first day actually," she said shyly. She tugged at her skirt, clearly uncomfortable. "Um, so, if you will excuse me…"

Raven and I stepped aside, watching her scurry to the nurse's room. It did not escape my notice how her shoulders slumped, as though she had the entire world's weight upon her shoulders. She could _not_ have been bullied on the first day. If anything, all the boys would have been asking her to prom. Girls like _her_ , they don't get isolated for too long. Give it a week, and she'd be surrounded by jocks and cheerleaders, and she would be sitting up straight, the pain in her eyes gone - they would be roaming the crowds instead, locking with some guy with the biceps and the wavy hair, guys who might call her _princess_ , probably treat her one too, and give her warm hugs, open doors for her, and do her bidding.

Her and me - we could _never_ be friends. We belonged in different worlds, like she's up there in space, and I'm here on the ground.


	5. Clarke

**I was being chased in the woods**.  I could hear your cries from a distance, you were calling out to me Bella, and I kept looking back, trying to find you through the thick trees that bent and ensnared, trapping and pulling at my hair. My hands were bound, my mouth was gagged, and ahead, in the shadows, someone was dragging me along.

 _Wanheda_ , the wind whispered.

Other voices drifted in and out, strange language I could not understand. Then suddenly I was looking at the face of a girl with green eyes and braided hair. Her face was close to mine, and she was gently removing the cloth around my mouth, saying she was sorry. My heart was pounding, burning, pushing. _This girl betrayed me_. My fingers itched to claw, my teeth ready to snap and bite.

And then she was gone.

 

 

 **I was back in the dimly-lit car** , the stereo flashing green and red, playing a familiar tune, a song we liked from that movie --

 _Nobody I asked knew how he came to be the one to whom you surrendered_.

You were singing along, body swaying with complete abandon.

"Oh, I just love him so much," you wailed, cheeks flushed. "I _fucking_ love him and it's so hard because we just can't be together."

You did not love him, that I knew for sure. You loved tragedy Bella, you loved the forbidden. You craved for the implausibility of things. You got a kiss from your cousin on your tenth birthday,  full on the mouth, just because you could. You stole a lip gloss on your eleventh, steps slow and deliberate, daring to be caught. You had unprotected sex on your sixteenth, deciding to call your firstborn Jamie, only there had been a minus instead of a plus, the box later crumpled and burned.

You had wanted things differently, and different things you had.

 _Had you seen it coming, Bella? Even then, had you wanted it?_ When the gun slammed on your side of the window, was there ever a moment when thought everything was a farce, that deep inside you just wanted to be the girl who simply loves because she is loved, who kisses her best friend and means it? When you clung to me bleeding, our shallow breaths mingling in the dark, did you feel sorry?

 _Take me home, Clarke_. That was what you said.

But I could not, Bella. I could not unlock the doors. We were the Schrödinger's cat, you see. And that car, with Alex Turner's voice serenading us, was our box. I thought if I stayed and held on to you, the universe would grant us a miracle and you would be alive, that you would not go where I could not follow. But I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, you were gone.


	6. Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Indra and Monty are introduced.  
> \- Indra will be our good, wise nurse.  
> \- I want Monty to be the kind of troublemaker our girls will feel safe to be with.  
> \- The line, "Grief is the ultimate form of unrequited love. However hard and however we love someone who has died, they can never love us back," is taken from the book "Sister" by "Rosamund Lupton" (I hear it will be turned into a film starring Emily Blunt).

**"You were crying in your sleep,"** I heard the nurse saying as I slowly heaved myself up from the bed. The curtains were drawn shut, but I could hear laughter from the other side, and the familiar thump of ball being kicked around. Somebody started shouting expletives, and somewhere farther, the sound of a whistle.

I grabbed my phone and saw it was half past twelve. I slept for more than an hour, missing fifth and sixth periods.

"First day blues?" Nurse Indra prompted. She was eyeing me quizzically, as though I was a broken toy that needed fixing.

 _I wish it were_ , I thought. I wished more than anything that it was something as silly as that, something I could laugh about later in front of my friends, with Bella by my side, matching my giggles with one of her own, the kind that tickles my ears, music that I never wanted to stop.

Earlier at the lab somebody's phone rang, and it was the same ringtone - _Sweet Disposition_ by _The Temper Trap_ , and by some cruel fate it was the same part - 1:22, right where Dougy says to _stay there because he'll be coming over_. It felt like a punch in the gut. I found myself gasping for air. My vision clouded, and the beaker I was holding shattered to the floor.

How cruel indeed, to be suddenly unhinged by the very things that used to give you life.

 _Grief is the ultimate form of unrequited love. However hard and however we love someone who has died, they can never love us back_.

I forced a quick smile at Nurse Indra, my eyes not quite meeting hers. "A little. Missing my old school a bit, I guess."

"You'll fit right in, don't you worry." She must have said this a thousand times before, but there was something reassuring about the conviction in her voice. She felt so confident as if she knew _exactly_ what I was going through. It made me feel less cold inside.

"Thanks," I smiled a little more warmly now, and ran a hand over my crumpled skirt. As I crouched down to lace my boots, the door creaked open and a boy with a bleeding knee stepped in. He had black hair that parted in the middle, and small eyes. Asian - probably Korean or Japanese. He was wincing.

Nurse Indra tutted.  "Monty, didn't I fix that very knee yesterday?"

"Not my fault," He grumbled, settling himself onto the nearest chair.

"Oh no, no, _not there_ , you'll bleed all over my chair," She gently pulled him by this arm and planted him to the empty bed opposite mine. The boy and I exchanged a curious look.

He grinned, all teeth. "You look like someone who's seen a lot of blood."

I knew it was a harmless remark. I supposed an average girl would automatically cringe at the sight of the mess on his knee, yet there I was staring blankly. Still, something inside twisted, an invisible knife plunging deeper.

I shrugged, but it didn’t feel natural. "You look like someone who bleeds a lot."

He laughed. "I suppose in my past life I was a warrior or something! This," he pointed at his knee. "Is _nothing_. You should have seen me last week when I cut my forehead."

Nurse Indra swatted his hand as she placed a rectangular box beside him. "Stop touching it you fool, or you'll infect it. Look at how dirty your nails are." She started taking the items from the box - rolls of bandage, a pair of surgical scissors, a bottle of betadine.

I took that as a cue to leave. I slung my bag over the shoulder and headed for the door. As I was closing it, I could hear the boy fake-crying. "Ouch, nurse! Gentler, please!"

 

 **As I headed back to class** , I thought about the two girls I met in the hallway, particularly about the girl with the green eyes. I racked my brain hard, convinced we have already met before. I _knew_ that face, like an old painting I've traced with my own hands. It felt like I knew exactly how smooth and soft that skin was, that I memorized the map of that perfect jaw like a blind man seeing with his fingers. As though, somehow, I conjured this being from the depths of my imagination and there she was finally, in full form, standing before me.

It was a strange feeling. I felt exposed. Seen.


	7. Lexa

_You used to call me "Hedda" - that German name for "battle maiden", but nobody else picked up on that. Your voice would come from everywhere, "Heddaheddahedda" , like a prayer forever on your lips. "Hedda, guess who I saw making out in the library - gross by the way, and you're not gonna believe it" or, "Hedda, did you see how Coach looked at us today, he's such a perv, we should totally stop wearing those skirts"._

_When you were thirteen you stabbed your father's tires with a knife. Later you hid it between the folds of your shirt. You saw me watching. Your eyes glittered with malice. And somewhere in there, a challenge? A pact?_

_Then you decided I was yours._

_Now I think of you, every time I see someone with the same shape of head, or the same shape of legs. I think of you as I drink your favourite tea, as its warmth spreads through my body. You appear in every single waking thought I have, as if everything is connected to you_

> _the color of the sky--_
> 
> _the scent of the wind--_
> 
> _the puddles on the pavement--_

_Everything leads back to you. Every cell in my body screams with your memory, as if you're the very blood that runs through my veins, my brain, the tips of my finger._

_I wonder, if these thoughts are powerful enough to send you a message. Even a fleeting moment, when you think of me too._


	8. Lexa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The Jason™ is introduced, and I plan to drag him more in the coming chapters.  
> \- Marcus Kane is mentioned, he'll be the school councilor. (Because he's the best and had one of the most positive character developments I've seen since S1.)  
> \- This chapter is longer than I had originally intended though  
> \- Some lines from T100 were used and adapted here  
> \- I'm considering John Murphy as Raven's older brother. A college frat boy but very protective of Raven, and eventually probably, our girls. Not sure yet.  
> \- Congrats to the Clexakru for winning this year's Zimbio's TV Couples March Madness Poll. Clexa is ours.

**"I'm glad you can spare the time, Alexandra,"** Principal Titus said as I settled on one of the two chairs facing his table. I nodded briefly, silently taking in the mess in front of me - thick folders on top of one another, three of which were threatening to fall off the edge; leather-bound books with complicated titles fighting for space against the four rectangular picture frames that dominated the rest of the table - I knew he had a family somewhere in the _'burbs_ \- four daughters and one boy, and his wife taught at another school. For a man who had painstakingly mapped the all-year schedule of major club activities and had obnoxiously stapled them to all the announcement boards he can find, he sure was one hell of a sloppy guy. I decided to tell Raven all about it later.

"Forgive the clutter," he added hurriedly, finally noticing my expression. "We're in the middle of an audit, and our encoder accidentally corrupted the files. Imagine all the manual reports we have to sift through from today till the fifteenth."

I feigned concern, something that Principal Titus always loved to see. "That's terrible. Is there anything the student council can do to help?" I imagined Raven baring her teeth and hissing from a distance.

"Oh no, we'll be fine. The adults can deal with this," he smiled brightly, clapping his hands. "Now, now. Where are we with the _Here For You_ club?"

I bristled, he already got a name for it - and a _lame_ one at that. I took a deep breath, my eyes focusing on the light bouncing off his bald head - it was something that had always irrationally calmed me down, like it made the principal slightly more mortal, and sometimes, ridiculous. He belonged with the monks - or way in the past where they still used black coal or real blood as war paint and didn't bathe.

"Your intentions are good Principal Titus, _ideal_ even," I started, and, hearing the hesitation in my voice, I cleared my throat. "The council and I will make use of the Wednesday huddle time to have a focus group discussion, but… I cannot promise any good results. You must understand that these kids… they don't want to be put on the spot any more than they already are, and to group them together _officially_ , and with the rest of the school knowing about them, well…"

The principal raised his hand to silence me. I felt mildly offended, as though we were in some palace chamber and he the king - a _commander_ , and _I_ his subject. It just didn't sit right with me.

"This is actually _not_ a negotiation, Lexa," Principal Titus explained. He sighed. "I've had a separate discussion with Marcus, you know him as the school councilor, and he's keen on going through with it. He'll be the official club advisor. Now, I hear where you're coming from, but that's _exactly_ why I put you there to spearhead this initiative. If there's anyone in this school who can unite our students - into a _coalition_ , if you will, that's you, Lexa. You just need to figure out how to best execute it. That's entirely up to you. Be creative about it, and think how it will benefit all the students positively. "

 _Easier said than done_ , I thought, fighting hard not to glare at him, hating him a little because I _knew_ he was right. This _is_ a good project, even if the reason he was so pushy about it was because he needed that for a political campaign next year. He wanted to be the guy who saw to it that the minorities were not neglected or disposed, that he cared about the kids who didn't care about themselves enough that they would rather crash their cars to the nearest lamp post. He was a manipulative _son of a bitch_ , just like that guy my mother used to date - Jason. He took all of my mother's savings - _including_ my college fund, to invest in a start-up tech company, promising that it would save all our lives. He even had the gall to propose to her, and showed her all these vacation brochures - _Bora Bora_ , _The Bahamas_ , even that Antarctica Tour that cost the entire mortgage of our house. My mother loved him, so did I. Even Raven liked him because he treated us well in the beginning, gave my mother all the attention she needed, and adored me like he would his own daughter. Only he turned out to be the guy you cannot, and can never, trust, the guy that will never follow through. He used the money as a guarantee for a much larger loan that turned out to be a scam, and when he realized his mistake, he packed up and left, leaving heartbreak and chaos in his wake. My mother and I never heard from him again - which was good, in retrospect. I sincerely doubted I could stop myself from clawing at his face if he ever showed up at our doorstep.

"Do you think you can do that, Lexa?" Principal Titus prompted, snapping me back to the present.

"I'll think about it," I said finally. That was the best answer I could give him. "I'll talk to Councilor Kane after our huddle."

He nodded eagerly. "Good, good. Always remember that our students come _first_ , Lexa."

 _Jus drein, Jus daun_ , the statement popped into my head immediately. I had no idea where those words came from, or what language it was. But there was something about Principal Titus' last statement that stirred something inside. That, or I was lightheaded because I was hungry. I did not have a proper lunch because Raven and I were busy hacking into the school's computer systems. In any case, I needed to figure out how to _form_ a coalition, without putting the soon-to-be-members as active targets from the rest of the school.

Principal Titus might have a good, albeit self-serving, vision, but in reality, _we go to school as any warrior of the past would, in full battle form, with words as our weapon, our mouths and our fingers the trigger, the vandalized bathroom doors or the little papers inserted to our pockets our catapults. Our scars are both inside and out, and sometimes we make ourselves bleed just for the sake of bleeding, to feel the rush of life, or unfeel it. We are here and everywhere, in light and in the shadows._

**I decided to make use of my remaining time to drop by the council room**. Raven was there, playing with her phone and looking bored out of her mind. I always wondered why she didn't officially campaign for a position within the council if she would be spending the rest of her time with me anyway. For a moment I simply stood there, watching her, relieved that I had someone like her that would help me get through each day. Then I remembered _Here For You_ and I sighed.

Raven heard me. She turned her head and her face broke into a sweet smile. "Finally! Gosh, I was wondering when you're going to show up. I thought the bald guy has already brainwashed you or something and you became his evil minion. Anyway, hey, look at this." She was pointing something on her phone as I approached. My breath caught for a second. It was a close-up picture of the blue-eyed girl we saw earlier.

"I figured out her name is Clarke Griffin," Raven went on, swiping left and right to show me more pictures. "I got curious so I dug her up. _Easy peasy_ , the registrar's so trusting of students you would _not_ believe it! Anyway, it was the first time I saw you got tongue-tied after all so I thought it was worth it. Even with C you were never _this_ starstruck."

Raven, my lovely best friend who never missed anything. The same person I wanted to strangle that very moment.

"What on earth are you talking about, _tongue-tied_?" I sat down and gave her my best pissed-off look. Of course, it never worked on someone like Raven.

She laughed, "Oh my god, you look totally whipped right now, Lex. Your cheeks are so red it's _literally_ blinding me. Look," She handed me her phone. "She's local, but she used to go to this posh school up town. Anyway, this girl's got drama. She was in some shooting accident a while back, and her friend died in the car. That's why she looks kinda sad - did you notice that too? _Durr_ , of course you did."

I contemplated on this while I stared at her picture which was probably taken during a summer trip. She was wearing a white tank top and a pair of cut-offs, her lean shoulders and long legs showing the beginning of a tan. The wind had messed up her loose bun and she was winking a little, as though sand had gotten into her eye. The strands that had escaped from her scrunchie had curled around her ears and neck. She had a big open smile, the kind that you wear on a especially glorious day, when you think you are invincible, and the world is all yours for the taking.

 _Clarke Griffin_. I had wanted to pronounce her name right there in front of Raven, let it roll off my tongue and see how it tasted, but I stopped myself.

 _She looked so happy here_ , and my heart twisted a little at the memory of the version I saw earlier. Obviously she was still grieving, and the fact that she was there when her best friend was shot… I shuddered.

"Cute isn't she?" Raven teased, watching me closely. "Something to distract you, probably?"

I bristled, handing back her phone. "Stop it, Rave. Anyway, now that you're here, you might as well help me with the _Here for You_ club of Principal Titus…"

"The here for what now?"

"Here. For. You," I enunciated each word as though I was talking to a three-year old. "Come on, let's brainstorm some ideas before your brother gets here to pick us up."

"Okay, first of all, that club name is super _lame_ , like _hit me-with-a-stray-bullet_ lame," Raven complained, but she was already grabbing her notebook from her bag. "And I'm only a _volunteer_ , why must I be involved in serious stuff?"

"Because you're my best friend and you love me," I grinned and reached out to pinch her cheek.


	9. Clarke

**"Clarke!"** I heard you screaming even before you reached the door, the angry pound of your steps matching the restless beating of my heart. I sat at the edge of my bed, fingers twisting the loose ends of a blanket. And then you barged in, teeth bared and eyes flashing.

"How could you do it?" In an instant your hands had wrapped around my shoulders, nails digging into my flesh. You were shaking. "How can you do that to me?"

"You're in way over your head," I tried to stay calm, but I could hear the tremor in my voice, angry but also pleading. "You've got to stop seeing him, Bell."

Something had come out of your lips - a half, frustrated cry, and we were both on the floor, pushing and twisting. You scratched at my arms, your tears pooling, big fat blobs splotching my face.

"I trusted you, you _bitch_ ," you whispered as you continued to mark my skin. "I trusted you and, you betrayed me. My own _best friend_ betrayed me."

"Am I?!" I tried to push you back but you trapped me with your legs, pinning me to the floor. My hands reached up, my own nails digging. "Am I _just_ your best friend?"

And then I was kissing you, my hands had moved up to your neck, locking your lips to mine. You tasted salty and sweet, and so familiar, like a forgotten dream. It felt like walking in a desert in a fevered state, then finding you there, a fresh pool of water. My salvation. My hope. _Yours, yours, yours_ , I had wanted to tell you, as you were mine. That was the only thing that made sense at the time even if it was not true.

 _And you knew it made sense because you had kissed me back_.

You kissed me back as you tried to pull my hands away, but I held on, terrified that if I did the spell would break, and you would realize this was a mistake. I wanted to assure you it wasn't, but as you tugged me forward and parted my mouth with your tongue, I convinced _myself_ that it wasn't. You drew away for a second, your eyes searching, mine smoldering with desire, then I pulled you back to me. Your hands that were once hurtful had wrapped around my neck, your fingers threading my hair. I was drowning with pleasure every time our lips and heated skin connect, the sound of your moans stoking the fire that had built up within me. Your were the craving I never knew I was hungry for.

We moved to the bed as we began undressing each other, clumsy and impatient, your hands like a branding iron, hot against my skin. With our clothes discarded on the floor, we began exploring each other with our hands and tongues, memorizing each curve and bump, leaving no surface unkissed. I hadn’t known how much I starved for you my whole life, until you were there, writhing against me.

But later, as we laid on the bed, spent, my arm wrapped possessively around your waist, you had turned your head and looked me straight in the eye. "What the _fuck_ are we doing?" And you stood up, wordlessly. You picked up your clothes and left my room, the sound of the door closing barely a whisper.

_How many times have I let you break my heart, Bella?_

But despite everything, despite the hatred in your eyes every time you looked at me since then, I wanted to remember that day with fondness because it was our first time.

Later, I could only dream about it because it was our only time.


	10. Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Octavia is mentioned

**"So I talked to Thelonious** ," My mother began as we were clearing the dishes. I could hear the soft _pew pew_ sounds of Jasper's video game drifting from the living room. For a moment I felt envious of him, that simple adolescent life of his where his utmost concern was getting to the boss stage with enough lives and healing potions, whereas I, it seemed, had to spend every waking second crafting the right words in my head before they form in my mouth, that even such mindless tasks like washing dishes could not be spent without feeling a little bit _undone_.

"It's so weird that you guys are on a first-name basis. Are you like, _friends_ now? And gossip behind my back?" I sounded like a child, and I hated it.

My mother sighed. "You know it’s not like that." She turned the tap on and started scrubbing the plates. "But as your mother I need to know how much you're progressing, " She paused. "If _at all_."

"What did he say?"

"He said you're still not talking."

_And why should I?_ I wondered why people were so focused about moving on, like it was something that was always necessary. _Let go! Keep moving!_ Move where? Why do people cannot choose  to stay still, to be trapped in a place in their heads, if it meant it would leave them anchored to the things and people that most mattered to them? Because I _knew_ , I knew if I started talking about Bella she would start getting farther away from me, that every time I tell people about her I take a piece of her from inside of me and she disintegrates into their thoughts, like a mist floating and disappearing before their eyes, that one day, she would be _exactly_ like a ghost, a memory that would slip into conversations from time to time, and I will soon forget about her because I _chose_ to let her out.

"I care about you, Clarke," Mom whispered, almost pleading. "And I worry about the burden you carry in your small body. I'm terrified that one day it will be too much, but no one's there to catch you because you keep everybody out."

"It is _my_ burden," I pointed out, teeth gritting, fighting against the sob that was starting to choke me. I grabbed the plate she was holding and started drying it with a rag. "I know you care, and I appreciate it, but… I've got to deal with this on my own. _Let_ me deal with this, Mom, and I promise you I won't shut you out…or… or hurt myself, but just, let me deal with it _in my own_ terms."

Mom smiled, her eyes tired and hopeful, but there was still fear in them. I wondered if that was a perpetual thing among mothers, that the minute their child is born, they cease not to be afraid.

After a while, as I was wiping the kitchen sink, and my mother was re-arranging the table mats, she mentioned the letters.

"Aurora and I had lunch, and she said she wanted to give you something," Mom was frowning, probably realizing it was not such a good idea. "She's been putting it off for weeks, and she had meant to call, but… she had a lot on her plate, obviously. Anyway, she kept some of Bella's journals and letters. She thought you are supposed to have them."

My heart skipped, the pounding of it ringing in my ears. _Bella's journals. Her letters. I didn't know she have those. My own best friend._ I wanted to run right there and then - to Bell's house or someplace else, I was not sure. But the urge to escape at that moment was so strong, my mind was already taking me to the door, into the woods, my heart pummelling my chest as though I was already on a marathon, my hair and body slick with sweat.

"You can drop by after school tomorrow. I'll give her a call," she went on, unsuspecting. "Then invite her for dinner this weekend. I heard her other daughter's back, Octavia is it? A school break, I suppose. Invite her along too, it would be good for all of us."

I nodded distractedly and declined Mom's offer for tea. She joined Jasper in the living room and started asking random questions about his game, and I crept noiselessly back to my room.

As soon as I shut the door, my legs gave up. _Bella's letters_ , I thought as I kneeled on the carpet, trying to catch my breath. _I'm supposed to have them_ , Aurora had said. Thousands of her thoughts in haphazard cursive, her handwriting messy and impatient, letters falling off the edges, ink blotting with spilled water or juice, and sometimes, tears.

_Did you write about me, Bell? Did you have fond thoughts about me, or am I going to find hate in there? Will I find a line that would say you think you love me too_?

I was meant to have her letters. But I thought I wasn't ready. 


End file.
